Anton Kar

Anton Kar Poems

A sudden inspiration has approached
(If I may call this stuff in such a way) ,
The common law of nature is abolished
And snow is whirling fast out of place.
...

He has inspired millions of souls:
Artistic, timid, mean, immortal - all
In the world is subject to the rule of master.
My dabbling lines of rhyme
...

I fell in love with her all of a sudden
I prayed and hoped and begged her pardon
Endeavoured to subdue, entice, persuade,
But hardly'd she succumbed to my attempt.
...

In the late Jurassic period
On a level piece of land
Huge Diplodocus appeared.
It took after all his band.
...

A butterfly… The genuine creation
Of a flawless, unconstrained nature's will.
The long-awaited designation
Of fleeting radiance in the nocturnal still.
...

The question of existence bothers me:
To be or not to be or still to be?

Once being off the track,
...

To live in fear is to live by halves -
Without gladness, without paradise.

To live in fear is to be aloft
...

Through the nocturnal mist
Along the aisle I stepped;
The raven, white as death,
Circled above my head.
...

You may determine if it is a fable
Or parable ascending to the skies.
It's up to you to puzzle over veiling,
My job is slightly more to glorify.
...

Пора туманная, пора плодов поспевших,
Ближайший друг стареющей звезды,
По сговору с которой бережно и нежно
Руководит длиной и крепостью лозы.
...

Я с ночью познакомился наедине,
Под звук тяжелой дождевой свирели.
Я шел вперед по городу, во мгле,
...

В глазах ее не кроется сияние солнца;
И на устах ее не отражен алеющий рассвет;
В груди не бьется пламенеющая гордость;
И черных локонов спираль шелками не блестит.
...

Nighttime. A street. Lampposts. A chemist's.
Crepuscular, unmeaning light.
You might as well live two more decades.
It's all the same. No room to fly.
...

The Best Poem Of Anton Kar

Once Upon An April

A sudden inspiration has approached
(If I may call this stuff in such a way) ,
The common law of nature is abolished
And snow is whirling fast out of place.

Whom are these twisted flakes created by?
Who is to blame for such misunderstanding?
They sound like the tunes of lullabies;
They dance as if infected with a craving.

Brief was the wonder's living on the throne,
It passed away as quickly as was born.
Amusement, melody and peace are gone.
The usual existence has returned.

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